Wynn |
Details | |||
Class: | Race: | Alignment: | Deity: |
Fighter | Human | Neutral | Chauntea |
Level: | Size: | Age: | Gender: |
4 | Medium | 19 | Female |
Height: | Weight: | Eyes: | Hair: |
5'6" | 145 | Hazel | Brown |
|
|
|
|
Weapons | ||||||||
Weapon | Bonus | Damage | Critical | Range | Weight | Size | Type | Special |
damage= +4 str | ||||||||
damage= +4 str | ||||||||
Given her by Kulo. |
Armor | ||||||||
Armor | Type | Bonus | Penalty | Max Dex | % Failure | Speed | Weight | Special |
Chain Shirt | Light | 4 | -2 | 4 | 20% | 30 | 25lb | |
Shield, heavy wooden | Shield | 2 | -2 | -- | 15% | 10lb |
Feats & Special Abilities | |
Feat / Ability | Description/Notes |
Weapon Focus, Longsword | +1 bonus on attack rolls with selected weapon. |
Weapon Specialization, Longswo | +2 on damage rolls with selected weapon. |
Power Attack | Trade attack bonus for damage (up to base attack bonus). |
Cleave | Extra melee attacks after dropping target. |
Great Cleave | No limit to cleave attacks each round. |
Dodge | +1 bonus to AC against selected target. |
Language: Goblin | Can speak and write Goblin. |
Skills | ||||||||
Skill Name | Ability | Skill Mod | = | Ability Mod | + | Ranks | + | Other |
Profession, farmer | Wis | 5 | 2 | 3 | -- | |||
Jump | Str | 5 | 4 | 5 | -4 | |||
Climb | Str | 6 | 4 | 6 | -4 | |||
Swim | Str | -2 | 4 | 2 | -8 | |||
Intimidate | Cha | 6 | -1 | 7 | -- | |||
Heal | Wis | 3 | 2 | 1 | -- |
Spell List | |||
No Spells Assigned. |
Gear | |||
Gear | Location | Weight | Description/Special |
Handy Haversack | Worn | It -looks- like a normal backpack... | |
Rations, 5 days | Backpack | ||
Sack, empty | Backpack | ||
Rope, hempen | Backpack | ||
Oil, 1 pint flasks, 4 | Backpack | ||
Lantern, bullseye | Backpack | ||
Belt pouch, 3 | Worn | ||
Waterskin, 2 | Backpack | ||
Whetstone | Backback | ||
Flint and steel | Belt pouch | ||
Hammer | Backpack | ||
Chalk, 7 pieces | Belt pouch | ||
Bedroll | Backpack | ||
Tindertwig ,20 | Belt pouch | ||
Thunderstone, 5 | Belt pouch | ||
Soap, 2lb | Backpack | ||
Amulet of Natural Armor, +1 | Worn | ||
Vials, 4 | Backpack | ||
Potion, Lesser Restoration | Backpack | ||
Potion, Mage Armor, 1 | Belt pouch | ||
Elixir of Vision, 1 | Backpack | ||
Smoked meat | Backpack | Allen gave it to her... | |
Potion, Cure Light Wounds, 3 | Belt pouch | ||
Lock, simple | Backpack | ||
Sunrod, 9 | Backpack |
Treasure/Money | ||||
Item | Location | Value | Weight | Description/Special |
Silver pieces, 20 | Pouches; backpack |
Experience | |||
Current | Next Level | ||
7600 | 10000 |
Description |
Wynn's hair, lank, brown, and just past shoulder length, is usually pulled messily back by a length of twine. Occasionally, she hacks off sections when she feels it's gotten too long, but just as often she's liable to forget for a time and let it grow. Her eyes, an indistinct, muddy tone of hazel, have a habit of staring quite unabashedly at whatever interests her, regardless of who takes offense. Above the right brow, up near the girl's hairline, the jagged line of a past wound is visible; she rubs it frequently with her second-to-last finger while she's not thinking of anything in particular. By the patches, it's obvious that at some point, someone had attempted to care for the the girl's clothes. Their current state of disrepair, though, makes it equally as obvious that Wynn doesn't bother any longer. |
Personality |
Somber, distant, and more than a little strange, Wynn hasn't had much practice interacting with others-- nor does she particularly want any. Her bluntness more often than not approaches rude, and she offers her opinion unedited even when it's uninvited. She possesses a hard sort of pragmatism bred by a childhood spent doing labor usually relegated to adults and older children, a brisk acceptance of most situations that frequently gives way to an if-this-is-the-only-way-let's-get-it-done-with-and-fuck-all-if-we-die attitude. As a general rule, Wynn often finds inanimate objects and even locations to be more interesting than people, and she has a strange obsession with keeping a mental catalogue of the things she's seen in the places she's been. |
Background |
Born to parents living just outside a tiny town near San Francisco, Wynn discovered early on that much was expected of her. As soon as she was able, she found herself hauling firewood, scrubbing laundry, and preparing dinner- hard work for a child, certainly, but on a farm in territory so dangerous, there was always too much to do, and a shortage of hands to do it with. Once a week, the girl’s parents brought her to the nearby town- a holiday of sorts for the child, who celebrated in her own strange way. Shoeless and usually filthy from the trip, she would disappear for the duration of their visit, exploring every inch of the tiny town carefully and noting the differences since the last time they’d come before settling herself near the wall and waiting for her mother and father to finish their shopping. She was eight years old when a monster attacked their farm- not a strange occurrence in and of itself, but for once her parents couldn’t keep it from the crops. Most of them were crushed in the ensuing struggle, and the remainder of the year was a hard one… but the next day, Wynn’s father began teaching her to fight. When she was nine, one of the boys that lived in the town finally dared approach the strange out-of-towner child on one of their weekly trips. He was Anders, and proclaimed in the confident way that children have that someday, he was going to go out past the wall and find “someplace grand”. And that, if she was nice, she could go, too. She called him stupid, told him that it was a good way to die, and left for her place by the wall without having explored the rest of the town. Thereafter, once a week without fail, he came to find the girl as she went about her explorations. What began as tolerance gradually evolved into something closer to friendship, and as it did Wynn found herself playing along with the ridiculous plans that he’d made for seeing the world out beyond the little town he’d never left before. When Wynn was twelve, her mother fell victim to a monster attack that resulted in the loss of her leg. It crept in through the window while the girl and her father were out working in the fields, and by the time they heard the screams, the damage was enough to leave the woman permanently crippled. For a time, they were afraid that she would die… but gradually, painfully, she managed to pull through. Her chores became Wynn’s, though the girl refused to give up helping her father. Daily she came in from the field, filthy and aching, to do whatever of the household work her mother couldn’t manage while sitting down. It became a way of life, and she grew accustomed to it as she long ago had her other duties. As the girl grew older, her relationship with Anders began to change. What had become friendship now developed into something more intimate, and as often as the two had explored the less-frequented parts of the town, it was always easy for them to find someplace to slip away. Wynn didn’t love him, she decided once, as he lay beside her in the few moments they had before she left for her spot by the wall. She wasn’t sure that she believed in love- or at least not the pretty version her parents had always told her about. But in all her best dreams, she finally gave in and left the little town with him to find his “someplace grand”. Wynn was nearly nineteen on the day that everything changed. She expected that her parents had finished shopping already, though her mother’s crutches were likely holding them up, and that in a toolshed in an alley, Anders had drifted off to sleep. It was as she was moving to her customary place beside the wall to wait that the monsters flooded over it. When all was said and done, the town was obliterated. As one of the buildings came down, Wynn was knocked unconscious, the blow to her head a deep gash that left her concussed and a with the promise of a future scar. She missed most of the ensuing scramble, surviving only because of the rubble that had obscured her from view. When she awoke, she struggled her way out of the wreckage to discover that her parents and Anders hadn’t lived through the attack. Dazed, the girl began scraping away at the earth with whatever she could find, bloodying her hands in an effort to dig three shallow graves. For markers, she used long scraps of metal tied with cloth at the top, crying only when she was finished- a quiet, subdued sort of tears. The girl left that day just before sunset, the only testament to the fact that her mind was well and truly rattled by what she’d seen. She traveled without stopping to rest, her staggering steps miraculously failing to attract the attention of creatures that had succeeded so easily in decimating a relatively healthy town. San Francisco, when she came to it, was a passing curiosity, a stop along the way for her to collapse, exhausted, into an alley and sleep until her body allowed her to wake. Until, of course, she caught word of York. And, before she realized entirely what she intended to do, Wynn was up and moving again, her mind filled with a thought that drowned out all others: if she’d ever heard it, -there- was someplace grand. |